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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952544">hearing the horses laugh</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimnismal/pseuds/grimnismal'>grimnismal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Horses, Nicky's 800 Year Old Grudge Against Horses, Team as Family, Trail Riding, horse riding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:07:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimnismal/pseuds/grimnismal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“You know I don’t like horses.”</em>
</p>
<p>  <em>Andy snorted, still scrolling Google for any local riding centres that offered trail rides.</em></p>
<p>  <em>“I know you do, Nicky, we <strong>all</strong> know of your grudge against horses that’s three times as old as Booker.”</em><br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hearing the horses laugh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this in, like, an hour and a half. It's probably riddled with inconsistencies and spelling/grammar errors. Forgive them, please. I was caught up in the exuberance of posting fanfic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="https://gaytransmanbooker.tumblr.com/post/636912382046846976/">posted on tumblr.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nile has never been around horses much in her life, outside of sometimes interacting with the black cowboys and their horses in Chicago when she was younger. She’s never ridden or gotten lessons on riding, never had the inclination nor the time for it, but somehow she knows there’s something odd about the way Nicky is interacting with the horse he’s been assigned for the trail ride that Andy had demanded they all go on as a family relationship building activity.</p>
<p>(“You just want to ride horses, Andy,” Nicky complained in that ancient accent and tone yet somehow sounding like her brother when he was seven and didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “You know I don’t like horses.”</p>
<p>Andy snorted, still scrolling Google for any local riding centres that offered trail rides. </p>
<p>“I know you do, Nicky, we <em>all</em> know of your grudge against horses that’s three times as old as Booker. But I also know you go pat the horses in the paddock down the back when you think no one’s gonna notice,” she smirked and Nicky had flushed bright red across his pale face. </p>
<p>She was watching this like a tennis match, back and forth, watching the subtle emotions run across each of their faces. </p>
<p>Nicky composed himself enough to defend himself against the slight raised against him. </p>
<p>“Sometimes you have to meet your enemy halfway,” he said primly with a sniff, and Joe and Booker’s laughter flowed in from the next room.</p>
<p>“<em>‘Meet your enemy halfway’</em>, Nicolò? You were whispering to them and picking grass for them!” Joe hollers, delightedly and the flush across Nicky’s face deepens even further.)</p>
<p>Nicky had been assigned a big, lumbering animal (“It’s a draft horse cross breed,” Booker says helpfully when she looks at the massive animal, mouth hanging open a bit, just a bit, “built for far work.”) named Bob and had visually balked at it, blanching a bit, after which the horse had proceeded to rub his massive head up and down Nicky. Joe was given a horse named Zorro that even she could recognise as a thoroughbred, long limbed and a bit lanky, but otherwise solid and a tiny bit fat. Andy was put on a short Icelandic horse named Oskar, looking disturbingly gleeful as she spoke with the manager of the centre who had sent them off to groom and saddle their animals. She and Booker were put on horses she had been excitedly informed by Booker were Norwegian Fjord horses, their manes cropped with distinctive colouring (“The black hair is <em>midtstol</em>, and the light hair are guard hairs,” he says helpfully with a small smile.) and both of the horses were smaller than the others barring Andy’s mount. </p>
<p>Booker helped her groom her horse, named Fred which had made her pause for a moment at the mundanity of it, and saddle him, while also doing the same with his own mount, Deedee. He The others all had centuries of equine knowledge and practice, even Booker, despite the dramatic changes in tack and even riding itself.</p>
<p>The kindly centre manager had asked them all to line up and come close to a mounting block to get on, which none of the others had needed help with other than her. She held the reins and the stirrup for Nile to put her booted foot through and swing her legs over and sit on Fred. It was surprisingly comfortable, which was good. </p>
<p>The manager then went through the basics of holding the reins (“Through the gap between the ring and the pinkie fingers, rolled softly closed but not clenched. Thumbs facing upward, you’re not playing a piano!”) and some basic commands like gentle squeezing on the reins to stop before tugging gently if need be, squeezing her calf muscles and moving her centre of mass to get them to move quicker (the manager had said this was mainly for changing gaits but she didn’t feel very comfortable with that, and told her so, and the manager said it was fine) and how to use her centre of mass overall to make the animal stop. </p>
<p>Nile grasps the reins as they form a single file line, the manager at the front, followed by Joe and Nicky, then herself and Booker, with Andy coming up the rear. Nile had filed away the prompts and commands, stuck to trying to keep her heels down and her hands up and looked around where they were riding through. The temperate deciduous forest was still lush and green as it was spring, and the sounds were nice. The air and sky was clear and the sun was warm on her skin. </p>
<p>Fred huffed and his mane swayed side to side as he marched forward, ears twitching this way and that. He bobbed his head a few times, chewing on the bit.</p>
<p>She looked at Nicky ahead of her and he leaned over, petting the gargantuan animal he was on who was plodding at a snail’s pace. He was murmuring in Italian, which she hadn’t picked up yet, and she looked back at Booker who was smirking at her. She looked back ahead of her, staring pointedly at Nicky’s back.</p>
<p>Of course the big bastard didn’t hate horses. </p>
<p>They ride through the mountain valley, following an interesting trail that took them through a thick part of the forest, across a cool stream which they stopped and let their horses drink from which caused a bit of a ruckus as Deedee shoved her face in and splashed about some. Booker was laughing, as was everyone. They continued up the hills and around before finally heading back towards where they came from, somehow hours having passed like nothing at all. They take their tack off and hose their horses down, as it was a particularly warm day even for Europe. </p>
<p>They lead them back to their paddocks for the manager, with a final pat goodbye, and then head back to the SUV to wait for Andy to pay the manager. </p>
<p>Nile is silent exactly until they drive out the gates of the centre before she bursts. </p>
<p>“Hating horses, huh, Nicky? Sure.” </p>
<p>Nicky, who is sitting on her left in the back seat of the car groans and covers his face. </p>
<p>“I do hate them! Some are simply easier to deal with than others, like how Booker is French but he is easier to deal with than French people!” Nicky says loudly. </p>
<p>She simply looks at him. She can see Andy shaking slightly in laughter and beside her in the passenger seat Booker lets out an offended “hey!” and Joe is giggling next to her, the vibrations running through her side from his deep, affectionate laugh.</p>
<p>“Give it up, Nicolò! She’s caught you out! There’s no coming back from this!” Joe chirps, still laughing deeply and melodically. </p>
<p>Even Nile is having trouble keeping the smile off her face and the laughter from breaking through her ribs. </p>
<p>“You only ‘hate’ horses because you tried so hard to become friends with Andy’s mare, which she told you didn’t like men,” Joe says and chuckles less loudly. “She bit you because you tried to saddle her when you shouldn’t have and you’ve been hurt by that for nine hundred years, you sensitive, sensitive man. You just can’t let that hurt go.”</p>
<p>Nicky huffs, muttering under his breath, laughing a bit, at himself and the hilarity of the situation. </p>
<p>Nile puts a solemn hand on his shoulder. </p>
<p>“If nothing else, Bob loves you.”</p>
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